A Letter to Luna
by Robotech-Master
Summary: Princess Celestia pours out her soul into a letter to her sister, who she has just had to banish to the moon.


A Letter to Luna

By Robotech_Master

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><p><em>Luna won't you cry for me <em>  
><em>I'm as lonely as I've ever been <em>  
><em>I am forced back into the start <em>  
><em>Is there any way to fix a broken heart?<em>

—Eurobeat Brony ft. Odyssey, "Luna"

* * *

><p>Luna. Oh, my Luna. How could I ever have failed you so badly?<p>

I don't know if you will ever see this. I could send it to you on the moon, but it would only be that usurper, Nightmare Moon, who received it. I can't think of her as you—I just can't. How can I ever tell you how sorry I am?

We were supposed to look out for each other. We were supposed to be there for each other. That's what sisters are for. And as your older sister, I was supposed to _take care of_ you. How could I have missed seeing that you were hurting so badly?

We were made to watch over this world, both of us. In the beginning, it was nothing but fun, like a game. I took so much pleasure in making the sun rise, in guiding it across the sky during the daytime. And you took the same pleasure, at least at first, in doing the same with the moon. We would chase each other around the sky, and there would be eclipses when we caught each other. Sometimes we went backward, for a change—there was nobody around to say we couldn't, after all.

Then the ponies came, and the gryphons, and the dragons, and the ursas, and suddenly we had responsibilities. We couldn't just do whatever we felt like anymore—we had to grow up. At least a little bit. And we had to take care of the creatures, as well as the world.

Of course, if we had responsibilities, we also had something else we had never had before: an audience. We were suddenly appreciated—and more. Can you remember how it felt, that first time, when they bowed down and worshiped us? And we told them not to be afraid, that we were here to help them? I still remember your bashful smile when that first unicorn worked up the courage to nuzzle you.

And so we went on like that, gradually growing up a little, taking care of our charges, hoping that we could teach them enough that eventually they wouldn't need us anymore and we could go back to minding nature and the skies. How could I have been so blind?

I didn't fully realize that so many ponies thought of the night as something scary, something to huddle inside with doors and windows shut tight against—or, at best, something to sleep through and ignore. I didn't see how much it affected you, laboring away night after night on something almost nobody appreciated. I didn't realize just how much work it really _is_, putting the night together, until I had to take over for you.

You were putting so much effort, so much love into what you did, and getting almost nothing back. You had the whole sky to fill—all I had to do was shove a ball of fire through the air, and I had cheering and the adulation of crowds wherever I went.

I can see it now, looking back—the sidelong glances, the way everypony _tolerated_ you because you were my sister, but distrusted you for your association with the scary, scary night. Why, oh why, could I not see it _then_, when I could have _done_ something? We could have instituted a new holiday, an all-night feast or star viewing. I could try to make it clear to ponies what a blessing the night really was, and how badly off they would be without it. Now…it's too late.

Right now, all the ponies are out celebrating, feasting and throwing parties, delighting in the banishment of the evil Nightmare Moon. "We never trusted that Princess Luna anyway," they say, when they think I'm not listening. "Everything will be better now that Princess Celestia is in charge." It takes all my willpower not to show them just how scary the _sun_ can be, when you're right next to it.

Can you believe I have already had three ponies petition me to make the night shorter, or eliminated altogether? And they're just the beginning. It seems as if half the farmers in Equestria think that if there wasn't any night, their crops would grow twice as fast. So help me, I am tempted to give them what they think they want. They have no idea how much it would mess up the climate if we didn't have nighttime to let the excess heat radiate back into space. Equestria would be nothing but desert before they even knew it. But I couldn't do that to all the blameless ponies for the sake of an ignorant, obnoxious few.

But then, I suppose you _can_ believe it. You know it only too well. I'm the one who is only just finding out.

We were supposed to be together forever. You were supposed to keep me company through the long, long centuries while everyone else around us grows old and dies. Who is going to keep me company now?

The sages tell me there might be a chance, in a thousand years when the stars align just right, that I might be able to set you free again—free from the prison of the moon, and from the prison of Nightmare Moon—with the same power I used to banish you now. I will pray this is true, and I will wait for you, though it will break my heart. Generations upon generations of ponies will be born, grow old, and die, and never know you as anything but an old pony tale. They will give me credit for the day and blame for the night. To those with such short lives, it will become "the way it's always been."

Maybe this is what you need—a chance to be forgotten, a way to begin anew with a fresh start. Maybe in a thousand years, ponies will have gotten over their fear of the night. Maybe they'll be able to welcome you back, and appreciate the job you do. I will work toward that goal—a lot can happen in a thousand years.

I hope the people of that distant time can forgive you. Maybe if that happens, I can hope that _you_ might someday forgive _me_ for my blindness.

I hope that you're sleeping up there, or that when you're Luna again you won't remember the time you spent as Nightmare Moon. I can't imagine how lonely you must be, all alone on the moon. But maybe it's not that much lonelier than you already were—or than I'm going to be for the next ten centuries. At least you have a good view.

Do you remember, all those years ago, when we stood together on the balcony of your castle on the moon? We stared up at that small, blue-white jewel hanging in the starry sky and swore we would always take care of it together. Now you're there, and I'm here, and it looks like it's going to stay that way for a very long time.

I will think of you always. I will think of you when I raise the moon, and every time I look up at it to see your silhouette. I will think of you when I lower it, and when I send my own orb across the sky. I will think of you when I see other pony families together, brothers and sisters playing with each other the way we no longer can. I will think of you when I have to deal with the sorts of ponies whose selfishness helped to drive you mad.

But now it's time for me to put on a brave face, and then go out and reassure ponykind that the natural cycle of days and nights will continue, even without you. I will take your workload onto my shoulders, delegating what I can, sacrificing my peace of mind for that of the ponies under my care. I will miss you terribly, but I can still hope that someday I will see you again.

I love you.

–Celestia


End file.
